


An Ordinary Fool

by jantosbitch (severed_lies)



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: dark_fest, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-27
Updated: 2010-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:38:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/severed_lies/pseuds/jantosbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andy gambles on Jack's soft spot and loses. Dark Fest prompt: Torchwood, Andy, on the wrong side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ordinary Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Lefaym for a lovely beta job. The title is taken from a Dylan Thomas quote.

Andy Davidson shivered in the damp cell. Not only was his thin white uniform shirt no protection from the pervading chill in the underground location, but that strangely-clothed beastie in the cell next to him kept up its unearthly moaning. Even if he had not seen one of those so called Weevils before, he could tell that it was not at all anything local. Alien to its core, it was, and with no care or concern for its victims.

 

A shadow crossed the dim lighting. It was about time. He could not remember what day it was, or how long since he had been bagged and dragged into the cell. Bloody Torchwood and their untouchable status.

 

Ianto Jones tried, but failed, to conceal his concern. Andy already suspected the worst, but here was confirmation. He was going to go missing, his body replaced with a facsimile – oh yeah, he knew what Torchwood did – at least his mum would have the comfort of a proper funeral.

 

"Do I get a last meal, mate?" Andy spat out, forcing himself to stand up without groaning, despite his stiff limbs.

 

Ianto pressed a button and the thick plexiglass door opened outward. Ianto did not answer, just gestured at Andy with a hand full of fancy stun gun.

 

Really bad, thought Andy, if his mate couldn't even make the effort to be sympathetic, not even if it was a false and useless gesture. B.A.D.

 

Andy shuffled his tingling feet, one in front of the other, and headed toward the corridor. He heard the hiss of the cell door shutting, reminding him that his last point of refuge was no longer available to him.

 

"In here!" Andy heard the Captain bark as he came upon a wedge of light in front of a heavy iron door.

 

Andy turned and stared into the chamber, expelling a snort as he steeled himself for what was to come.

 

Ianto nudged him gently. Andy stumbled a bit before stepping over the threshold and stood next to the only piece of furniture in the room, an ancient-looking metal chair.

 

"Sit." Andy looked up. The almost inaudible command caught his attention. He nodded, then sank down, grimacing as the cold metal delivered a static shock. He settled in, arms folded over his stomach, trying to warm himself.

 

Ianto closed the door from the corridor and Andy watched as the Captain waited until Ianto's footsteps faded.

 

"You know you're not clever enough to have gotten away with it," the Captain stated. Andy watched as Harkness circled the chair, circled him like a vulture. He knew there was no 'right' answer. Harkness was known to possess, on rare occasions, a vicious and volatile temper. Best to make some attempt at capitulation, maybe even try to make the end a bit less painful.

 

"Not clever enough, unlike you lot. Yeah, I figured I had a limited run before you found out."

 

There, he had answered. He had been rehearsing and rehashing just what to say since he woke up in a damp holding cell.

 

The Captain spun and stalked to the far wall, placed a booted foot against the surface and leaned back with his eyes closed.

 

"And I'm _sure_ you had a very good reason for what you did."

 

Andy nodded, then braved to say "Same as you, just not sanctioned by the Crown."

 

Harkness startled upright from the wall, narrowed his eyes, then abruptly exited the room, slamming the iron door in his wake.

 

Andy stared at the door, swore he could feel the reverberations pulsing through his tired body. Well fuck me, he thought. He turned side-ways and laid his head on top of the slatted chair back, closing his eyes against the harsh light trained on his face. The cold wended its way into his mind, numbing his fears for the moment.

 

He sat upright, the thought that he had a slim chance of surviving this encounter quickly coming, then fleeing. No, he didn't know when, but he was certain of his demise. No good deed, he thought with a strangled laugh, he'd certainly had proved that to be true.

~~~~~~~

**DAVIDSON Andrew, Police Constable, South Wales. Suddenly on 28th February, 2010, aged 29 years. Andy, a loving son, brother, uncle and cousin, who will be sadly missed by all his family, work colleagues and many friends. Funeral Friday, 5th March, service 2.00 p.m., at Swansea Crematorium, where friends are kindly asked to meet.**

 

Derrin Jones caught sight of the discarded newspaper, his eyes drawn to the picture of the young man in uniform. He felt a cold chill, then grabbed the paper to discard it properly in the bin next to the entrance to Victoria Station. He shrugged off the dark feelings and hurried to the ticket kiosk. He had a lot of organizing to do before he started his new job at a kebob restaurant in Manchester.

 

As he sat at the bench, ticket in his shirt pocket and busily jotting down a list of items he would need in his new bedsit, he was unaware of the chemicals streaming through his brain, over-writing his memory of that eerily familiar man pictured on the obituary page.


End file.
